maglayas

Obviously, you need to have Peking Duck at least once while you’re in Beijing. This favorite of the old imperial courts is so good that it has actually inspired poetry. Though your guidebook can point you to any number of places serving Peking Duck, my favorite is Duck de Chine. If that doesn’t sound particularly Chinese, well, that’s because it’s not. It’s French fusion.

This is the part where you’re probably wondering what the hell I’m talking about – a French place for China’s national dish? And once I reveal the fact that Duck de Chine houses China’s first Bollinger champagne bar and that the interior reeks of warm mahogany and exposed beams, you’ll probably laugh in my face and think, that is far too bourgie to be authentic. Yes, it is kind of bourgie. And yes, it’ll be more expensive than other Peking Duck restaurants, especially since prices increased in time for the Summer Olympics and have mysteriously stayed up (though it’s still affordable by Western standards). But it is definitely authentic, and boy, is it ever delicious.

Read More »

Photo of foie gras poutine courtesy of jslander's Flickr stream

If you’re ever in Montreal, you’ll see their world-famous poutine on every corner, literally.  Besides diners, bars, and restaurants, even fast food chains like McDonald’s and KFC are cashing in on their popularity.  It’s not hard to see why they’re so ubiquitous – who wouldn’t love french fries doused in gravy and dotted in cheese curds, whether as a mid-afternoon snack, appetizer, or post-drinking pick-me-up?  Though it’s already a stroke of Quebecois brilliance, Au Pied De Cochon ups the ante by cooking the fries in duck fat and adding foie gras.  Hello, heart attack.

Read More »

No visit to Mongolia is complete without at least a few days on an off-roading adventure (since there are about four roads in the entire country, going anywhere inevitably entails a bit of off-roading).  In fact, many people choose to travel deep into Mongolia’s deserts and arid landscapes, exploring some of the most remote places on earth for weeks at a time.  However, eating quickly becomes an issue; you’ll find a lot of mutton and root vegetables in the Mongolian wilderness and not much else.  Unsurprisingly, locals can whip this all into a killer stew, but that gets old fast.  While there are a few roadside eateries around, all of the menus are in Cyrillic.  Unless you have a Russian in your midst, you’re probably going to be ordering the same thing as your rudimentary-English speaking driver: a stew of some sort.  And if you’re a vegetarian, you won’t even have that option; the only local specialty that doesn’t include meat is fermented mare’s milk.

Photo of Michele's courtesy of felibrilu's Flickr stream

Read More »

On my first day in San Francisco, a friend from college took me to what he felt was the most delicious place in the city – the Ferry Building.  He wasn’t wrong. Everything I ate was so good that I made sure to stop by each day for at least one meal, even if it meant concocting circuitous routes and braving bus transfers to get there from the other side of town.  Though I felt kind of bad that I wasn’t exploring other options in a city known for its food, any doubts were soon forgotten once I was happily devouring a milk-braised pork sandwich with fennel tapenade.  Or a bowl of five-spice chicken noodles.  Or some pistachio macarons.

From left to right: photo of Out the Door’s Vietnamese sandwich courtesy of ldandersen’s Flickr stream; photo of Out the Door’s spring rolls courtesy of Helluin912′s Flickr stream; photo of Il Cane Rosso’s beef brisket sandwich courtesy of SidewalkSundays’ Flickr stream.

From left to right: author’s personal photo of Il Cane Ross’s menu; photo of Miette Bakery’s cupcakes courtesy of arnold | inuyaki’s Flickr stream; photo of Miette Bakery’s macarons courtesy of SanFranAnnie’s Flickr stream.

Read More »

Both times I was in Istanbul, I settled into the habit of stopping by Baklavaci Said twice a day for my daily intake of exactly four pieces of chocolate baklava. I’d stumbled across their tiny storefront on my first day in the city, seduced by the panoply of baklavas I could spot from the sidewalk – trays and trays of phyllo masterpieces were cut into the traditional rhombus or rectangle shape, but there were intriguing little rolls and mounds too. Because of the varying permutations of almonds, walnuts, and pistachios, the overall effect was an earthy, delicious rainbow of golden hues and greens. But the rich, silky brown of the chocolate baklava caught my eye. It was like all those stories I’d heard that started out with, “I saw her across a crowded room. . .”

Photo courtesy of lisacarsebilbrough's Flickr stream

To be fair, all of their baklava is good. But if you’re a chocolate person, you’ll love their chocolate baklava. Hell, if you have a beating heart, you’ll love their chocolate baklava. It was so good that I actually brought three boxes back to NYC with me, one of which I was going to share with my work colleagues but ended up hoarding all to myself.

Photo courtesy of mariannaF's Flickr stream

If you are in Istanbul, or even anywhere within a 6 hour bus ride, it’s worth checking out Baklavaci Said’s chocolate baklava – every time I go to a Turkish or Greek restaurant, I hold my breath hoping that they’ll offer something similar. They never do. It’s the kind of baklava you’ll dream about even years later, the kind that inspires you to write periodic emails to the company to request the recipe. So far, there’s been no reply.

Baklavaci Said
Divanyolu Caddesi No: 88
ÇEMBERLİTAS
Istanbul
Telephone: 0 212 526 96 66
Email: cermberlitassube@baklavacisaid.com

Image courtesy of holdtheframe's Flickr stream

I spent two weeks in Panama last year on my honeymoon, so when Tripwolf’s very own Adena mentioned that she was Panama-bound this week, I couldn’t wait to tell her about El Sabrosón.  Situated right on the main road in Boquete, it’s not exactly the kind of place you envision for a romantic dinner with your new husband.  As you approach El Sabrosón, you can see bars on the windows, a crappy plywood overhang, and the same kind of swinging doors that you find at convalescence centers.  Inside, it’s not much better – rows of flimsy tables stand between you and the smiling women who dish out stews from glass-enclosed food warmers.  That’s right, El Sabrosón is a cafeteria.

Read More »

My hometown of Chicago is basically one big homage to meat. What do you expect from the former capital of meatpacking and slaughterhouses? If you love meat, every day is your lucky day when you’re in Chicago and my favorite place to start is with a burger at Kuma’s Corner.

Photo of Pantera Burger courtesy of lobstar28's Flickr stream

As if burgers weren’t awesome enough as it is, Kuma’s Corner a) dares to put them on a pretzel roll, and b) names them after heavy metal bands. F–k yeah!

Read More »

By the time I got to Berlin, I hadn’t had a good cup of coffee, much less a muffin or a bagel, in about six months.  I had been in Asia frequenting street stalls, roadside eateries, and yurts, and though I loved all the regional cuisine I was discovering, I also longed for something familiar.  I think my friends in Berlin sensed this, because upon my arrival, they whisked me away to Barcomi’s.

Photo from erik boralv's Flickr stream

Read More »

Though everything in East London seems to be gentrifying faster than you can say “overpriced vintage,” Brick Lane Beigel Bake is one reliably down-to-earth institution that isn’t going anywhere.  It’s been around for over 100 years and doesn’t look as if it’s had a renovation since it opened – the interior is downright ugly, and nowhere you’d care to linger.  The staff are hardly more welcoming – brusque, middle-aged Cockneys waste no time, deftly weaving from the slicing counter to the meat station and back again, only taking a moment to demand the next order from a wizened taxi driver or drunken clubber.  So why are there always lines winding out the door, especially at 3am on weekend nights?  Two words: SALTED BEEF.

Read More »

From the parking lot, all I could see was a bamboo and wood-planked bridge, practically swallowed whole by creeping mangroves.  Sure, the sign said “Badjao Seafront,” but it was hard to believe that there was a restaurant somewhere in the midst of all that overgrown chaos.  As I crossed the bridge, the dustiness of the parking lot seemed a million miles away – I was suddenly in the middle of lush mangroves, the quiet tide of the sea circulating beneath my feet.

Read More »